I wanna see the best ghostly short story that anyone here can come up with. I just wanna see who the most creative person in the forum is, so write down anything that comes to mind. Dont do any kid stuff where the man with glowing eyes chases you with chainsaw, just basic ghost story. It doesnt have to be realistic, but dont go nuts. It doesnt have to be long, only about one paragraph, but you can make it as long as you want. So come on people, lets have fun and get creative. We can even pick a winner, no prize of course. So lets do our best to scare the crap out of each other.

I had known she was in my house, that lady in the grey. We had heard her voice several times, telling us this is her house. We refuse to move no matter what she does to us. She has thrown things off the walls, smashed our things, and hidden our personal possesions.
I was never really scared of her until one night when I had went to the bathroom. I left the door cracked open and the only light was from the dim overhead light. After I had finished my bathroom business I looked into the mirror and seen her standing outside the door in the mirror's reflection. Her eyes were wide and as big as saucers. She didn't move, she just peered in with a terrifying look on her face.
I quickly shut the door and sat in a corner, to afraid to open the door and find her waiting for me. The overhead light started to go dead and my fear was growing. The knob started to shake, I lunged forward to lock the door but it was too late. The door had been cracked open and through the door my brother came, wondering why I had been in the bathroom so long.
That terrifying look on her face has been burned into my head. It haunts my thoughts, my memories, my dreams. I know she never left me, she still wants us out of this house. But, all I can say is, show me your best.

something like that, but a whole lot better. that sucked!! write as many as you want, go crazy with them, and have fun!!

The funeral was over and the mourners were starting to
gather at the home of the old woman.
It had been a fine early spring day with just a hint of crisp-
ness in the air fragrant with freshly cut flowers and newly
turned earth.
The service itself was short and the mourners few with only
a few tears to mark the sadness of the occasion.
The old woman had lived in the tiny town her entire life.
Had even been born in the same house she had died in.
She had never married.
Her father had been the wealthiest man in the county and
she had never wanted for anything…except love.
Her mother had died giving birth to her and her father had
never forgiven her for "killing the love of his life" as he so
often told her in the cruel angry manner that he adopted
after the death of his beloved wife.
Sadly, hers had been a lonely childhood and she had no real friends
only the children of the house servants would play with
her when ordered to do so by their pitying parents.
But she had no one close... she felt outcast.
Years later after her father died, things seemed to change little.
It was as if the force of his cruel domineering spirit was still alive
in every room of the house.
And although she was in her late 40's when he died she was still
cowered by his unkind admonitions as if she were a small child.
The people of the town were glad for her that the old man was
dead, and hoped that she might find some happiness in her dreary
life, after all she was a very wealthy woman now and could do as
she pleased, even travel abroad for years if she took a mind to it.
But things changed little, and the years passed in dreary loneliness
as if she were stuck on a merry go round of dull horror.
And so she was.
Every night after the servants left it would start.
It began as whisper in her ear barely audible at all, just a quiet
hum that grew as the evening wore on into the cruel berating
of her father still not satisfied with the fact of her.
This continued every night for the next 37 years until the very last night
of her life.
On that night as the old woman lay dying in her bed something was
different... nothing that was obvious to the eye aside from the fact that
she was dying but something else in her had changed.
The atmosphere was charged with a new emotion that sprang
like a fount out of the old woman.
The emotion was elation…
A smile started to spread on the old woman's face as the evening humming
of the fathers cursing began.
It looked strangely contorted on her old dull face that had never worn
any happy expression.
Then the bizarre thing happened...she started to laugh.
It started as sort of a low chuckle, almost a coughing sound that
Grew soon into it’s intensity and became a loud chortling finally
bursting into a great booming guffaw!
This went on for some time before she began to relax into her pillow,
a look of sweet serenity on her face giggling now and then, and then
settling back again.
All the while the cursing of the father kept on but this time barely heard
by the old woman who was focused on something far more powerful
than the angry torrent of her father.
In her last moments this woman who had never felt the loving warmth of
a father looked up to see the beautiful radiant smile of the mother she had
never known.
This lovely apparition had been telling her nursery rimes and singing sweet
little children’s songs to her as she was close approaching her end.
Then she told her daughter she loved her and opened her arms to welcome her….

Edited by spooksareus, 19 February 2006 - 02:09 PM.

"It is perfectly monstrous the way people go about, nowadays, saying things against one behind one's back that are absolutely and entirely true." -Oscar Wilde “The Picture of Dorian Gray”

Is it Peeps season yet?Gallon of citronella oil--$5.95Having said oil blessed by local Catholic priest--FreeThe look on a psychic vampires face after you douse it with blessed oil and call it a psychic mosquito--Priceless!!!There are some things money can't buy...A good imagination is one of them

we need some more please, anyone? write about anything, doesnt have to be the best. i may put some others later, but please....dont laugh at them. why dont u give it a try boo, im sure you would be really good at it, please!!

The cold, winter air seemed to bite at Jack's nose as he rubbed the spray-paint off of the gravestone. This had been the third time the vandals had struck this week. He didn't see why people find some sick pleasure from ruining these poor people's markers, and leaving him to clean it all up. He always thought this was no way for a sixteen year old to spend his afternoons. But, he always found this cemetery peaceful and relaxing, so he came here as often as he could. The eerie quietness seemed to soothe his uneasy mind.

That is why he had volunteered to be the caretaker of this old cemetery, but now, he regrets volunteering in the middle of winter. He would stay out here for at least three hours a day, cleaning the paint left behind by the vandals, only to come again tommorrow and find it there again. The obscene messages written on the graves brought tears to his eyes. These people, long since dead, had never done anything to them, nor could they do anything now. It made him sick.

While he struggled to get the last of the paint from a stone, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He quickly turned around, he hadn't heard anyone approach him. There was a girl, about his age, standing there with a look of sadness on her face.
"These vandals....they make me sick." she said. Her eyes fixed on the remaining paint. She grabbed the rag from his hand and started wiping the paint off.
Puzzled, Jack asked "What is your name, what are you doing here?"
She finished scrubbing and said, "My name is Emily, this place relaxes me. Sometimes, it's as if I can't even leave."
Jack thought the girl was very pretty, but he had never seen her at school or in town. Nevertheless, they started talking and the time passed faster than they had realized, it was time for Jack to go home. They said there good-byes and they both walked to the gates. When Jack started to walk away, he turned around the say one last good-bye, and she was out of sight. Jack thought she must have went back in.

The next day, Jack arrived at the cemetery to find Emily rubbing some more paint off a stone. It was an unseasonably warm today and the feeling of rain was in the air. Jack walked over to Emily and helped her rub the rest of the paint of the stone.

They found a nice spot amongst the graves and sat down to talk. Emily said that she was feeling a bit chilly, and almost instinctively Jack handed her his jacket. Jack thought that he loved this girl, but he wasn't really sure, he had never felt this way about anyone before.

The sound of rolling thunder echoed in the distance. Almost instantly, the rain started to pour in torrents. Jack grabbed her hand without thinking, and they both ran for the gates. Her hand was freezing cold he thought as they ran. The rain was coming down so hard that they had to yell when they spoke.

Jack had offered to walk her home in the rain, but she insisted that he go home. He started to run when he realized she had his jacket. When he turned, she was gone. He ran, and ran, all along the way thinking of nothing but Emily.

The next day all he thought about was getting to the cemetery and seeing Emily again. When the bell rang at three, he was the first to leave.

Today, it was a whole lot colder, the air was biting at his nose again. Snow started to drift down from the heavens to cover the Earth in a white blanket. Jack thought that the cemetery was so beautiful when it was covered in snow, but not as beautiful as Emily.

When he got there, he didn't see Emily, but something caught his eye, way off in the distance. He started to run, but the cold air made it hard for him to breathe. He looked ahead and saw his jacket placed neatly on the top of a small grave. He kept running even though it hurt so bad. The pain was almost unbearable, but he finally reached the grave.

In pain, he grabbed the jacket and noticed something in the pocket. He reached in and pulled out a note. His numbing fingers made it hard to unfold the note. He finally got it open, and it read:

Dear Jack,
Thank you for everything...I love you...

Emily Dodson

When he picked up the jacket his lungs were aching worse than they had before. He glanced at the grave where his jacket was placed and read the name:

Emily Dodson
1980-1996

Above the name, was a picture, of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen...Emily.

He gasped for air, but found that it was so hard to breathe, he collapsed in the snow and struggled for his last breathes. Slowly, ever so slowly, he breathed his final painful breathe.

His body felt like ice, his cold, dead body lay there in the snow...two arms clasped themselves around his cold body, and he felt warm again.

--I just wrote this off the top of my head, i think the ending was sort of weak though. Not the best story ive ever done, but id say its good for something i just wrote as i went.